


Upgrade

by bluejorts



Series: Juno Steel and the Cyborg Thief [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Cybernetics, Cyborg Nureyev, Other, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Nureyev, oh no s3 time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/pseuds/bluejorts
Summary: Peter Ransom is not the same man as the Peter Nureyev Juno once knew. They don't even share the same body
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Series: Juno Steel and the Cyborg Thief [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534841
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello it's me robot lover supreme i still maintain that this is canon compliant and sophie kaner could hold me at gunpoint and tell me it's not and i would refuse to believe them.

The first time Juno sees Peter Ransom's chest he feels like his stomach falls through the floorboards. 

The Carte Blanche is a large enough ship that Juno has plenty of space to wander around when he gets restless at night, and usually during his pacing he doesn't run into anyone. Tonight isn't usually. Tonight he walks down a hallway, watching the motion sensor lights blink on ahead of his wake, and the bathroom door opens in front of him. 

By his comms, Juno knows that it's just gone three am. Solar time, and he opens his mouth to poke fun at whoever decided that was a good time for a shower, but the words dissolve on his tongue when Ransom walks out, towel wrapped high around his waist but torso bare. Torso  _ bare _ . 

Juno freezes in his step and genuinely feels like pinching himself. He's thought about Peter's chest for over a year, dreamed about it, daydreamed, fantasized,  _ yearned _ for the feeling of his flesh and his metal. But with it in front of him right now things feel wrong. 

Ransom's torso is bare in the same way anybody else's might be. Smooth skin and scars and not a flash of purple in sight. The polymer paneling that Juno has burned into his brain from their night together is gone, the flesh instead an even brown - beautiful as the rest of him but  _ wrong _ . 

He realises that he's stopped, and that he's staring. He clears his throat and attempts the quip he'd been going to say before his distraction. 

"Little early for a shower, isn't it?"

"Little late for a stroll." Ransom says back, voice clipped and irate. "Would you mind letting me pass?"

Juno moves to the side and gestures a 'go ahead'. With the width of the corridor as it is, even with Juno's back to the wall, they're barely two inches apart as Ransom strides past. He smells like soap. Juno misses his cologne. 

He watches his back as Ransom leaves, the smooth musculature around his shoulder blades.

"Ransom?" 

Juno didn't mean to say that. He feels caught out by his own voice, moreso when the man in question turns immediately with a frown that's clearly trying to be annoyed. 

"What -" There's something caught in his throat, he clears it. "What happened?" 

Ransom looks confused. Juno gestures weakly at his chest, and he sees the realisation take hold. Ransom tenses, he straightens himself up and his jaw hardens.

"I got an upgrade." He says.

Oh. Juno watches him turn back around and speed away. 

"Oh." He mutters. "Sorry. I didn't mean to -" 

"Go to bed, Juno." Ransom interrupts. "Before you say something stupid."

Juno doesn't know how to respond to that, so he just keeps watching the man leave until he's turned down a different hall and his soft footsteps have faded. 

Needless to say, Juno doesn't go to bed. He returns to his pacing and wishes he could walk himself into the past. He can't, though, and try as he might he can't get the image of Ransom's chest off his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i wrote most of this drunk at a friend's party because a tory tried to get into an argument with everyone else in the room and it was ruining the vibe. sometimes u just gotta write to cope

* * *

Juno doesn't ask. Nureyev can tell that he wants to. He sees the question form every time Juno goes to open his mouth, but it's pushed to the back of his throat to allow new apologies to pass. More proof that he's a whole new person in front of Nureyev.

He reaches over and rests his hand in the air above Juno's. Waiting. Hoping. 

Juno's speech fizzles out and he looks down at Nureyev's hand. Without saying another thing, he flips his own and lifts it to meet Nureyev's. His palm is warm and rough, familiar - achingly so. Nureyev wants to hold it to himself, hold Juno's wrist and guide his hand all over his body, over the new parts of him, the parts that miss his touch but weren't there before to logically do so.

"It's not an upgrade." He says. His voice feels disruptive, breaking apart the air it's spoken into. "Downgrade, really." 

"Wh - oh." Juno's hand tightens in his. "Oh." 

"You were the only person who ever touched me… there." It feels like a weak phrase, far too open; naïve. "After you left I felt like - I worried that that was why. Honestly." A box in his mind overturns, its contents spilling out through his mouth. "I felt far too open. Mentally but - but physically also. My body was this representation of that. And I felt wrong. I wanted to feel normal, I didn't want the reminder of my," he pauses, grimaces, "inadequacy. I knew of a supplier of lower class materials on Luna." Juno has started rubbing his thumb over the back of Nureyev's hand. "I made that my first stop when I left Mars." 

He's not sure what to say next. He doesn't know how to continue. He's not quite ready to tell Juno the full story. How he kept the old parts. How they live in a lockbox under his bunk. He's never felt attached before, never wanted to keep his scrap. At first he told himself it was because it was still viable, because he couldn't afford to throw away something so useful. 

"It wasn't because of that." Juno says.

Nureyev meets his eye with a tight smile. "I see that now. It's just something I suppose I didn't get at the time. It's easy to let your mind get carried away and tangled in your insecurities."

There's a beat. Juno coughs. "I, uh. Tell me to shut up if it's too much of a reminder." He bites his lip. "But I actually thought it was hot - beautiful, really. Your body. I'd been with people with cybernetics before - been with people with a  _ lot _ of things, before - but nothing like you." His brows knit in anxiety. "I, um, I guess I was kinda transfixed. I just thought you were so beautiful." 

Nureyev's heart aches. 

"And even when you went to sleep." Juno continues. "I lay there and watched you breathing. Because it was just mesmerising." 

Nureyev feels tears prick the corners of his eyes and swallows against a lump in his throat. 

"And. Uh. Touching you." Juno breaks eye contact with him and stares at their hands. "Never done that before but, uh, would go again." 

Nureyev chuckles, it comes out wetter and less composed than he would like, and Juno's eye darts back up to meet his. God, does he have such an expressive gaze. 

"Congratulations, dear. You may have developed a fetish." 

"I doubt that.' Juno rolls his eye. "I think anyone would feel like I did." He looks down at the sheets and rubs his cheek with his free hand. "You could get anyone, fetish or no." 

Nureyev bites back from asking if he can _ get _ Juno. He's not ready for the same rejection twice, he doesn't think his heart could take it. 

"Thank you for that reassurance. I think I'll… pass on that. The 'getting' people. I think I'm a little old for that game." 

Juno barks a laugh. It's a little abrasive on Nureyev's ears, but once he's gotten over the shock of it there's a warmth in his chest from getting to hear the noise. 

"Not to be funny N-Nureyev -" (he holds the name differently in his mouth now, awkwardly.) "- but if you think you're old, I must be ancient." 

Nureyev smiles. "Maybe you are, Detective."

"Now that's just rude." Juno scoffs. He jostles Nureyev's arm between them playfully, Nureyev letting himself be manhandled. "Hey, what..?" Juno stops suddenly, looking concerned. His hand slides down to the crook of Nureyev's elbow, the other untangling from Nureyev's and coming up tentatively to swipe his thumb under his eye. Oh. He's crying. He lets Juno cup his cheek and look up at him like he wants to stop the tears, but that look only makes them flow more freely, a choked noise forcing its way from Nureyev's throat.

Juno looks alarmed for a moment, but even with eyes swimming with tears he sees the pain flash across his face. 

"I - Nureyev." Is all he seems able to say. He pulls Nureyev towards him, arms wrapped around his sides, one hand cupping the back of his head to guide him to rest on Juno's chest. It's not the most elegant thing, as soon as Juno has him positioned he freezes up. It's pretty clear he's never done this before. Or at least, not in a long while. 

The sobs come harder, though, soaked up by Juno's shirt. The feeling kicks him in the gut, too. A bone deep ache of something halfway between loneliness and regret. He grabs at Juno's shirt, trying to find some way of getting rid of it, and when that doesn't help he wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him in, just  _ needing  _ him. He feels like there's a malfunction in his heart, the metal of his torso is being ripped apart, his flesh bruised from the inside out. God.  _ God,  _ he's not felt this way before. He's never cried like this before. Has he been holding it? Is this thirty six years worth of pain? What will be left after this? He isn't sure he knows how to live with such an onslaught of emotion. 

The wave spills from his eyes and he knows he's making the ugliest noise he ever has, but he's not able to stop. The only thing he can do is hold Juno closer, keep him there, so he can't run away again.

"Hey, okay. It's okay. Let it out." Juno's voice reverberates through him once he's capable of focusing on it. He's still crying too hard to make out some of it, but it sinks in and soothes; ice on the burning emotion within. "I'm here, Nureyev. I'm here." 

Nureyev manages to get his tears under control, but he doesn't move his head from Juno's chest. He shouldn't. He shouldn't let himself touch him like this so selfishly, with his arms around his waist and his nose full of the smell of  _ him _ . But he's so tired, and his eyes hurt from the tears, and he thinks his nose is running, so he lets himself be selfish. 

Juno shifts. Nureyev's heart plummets free of its wiring. But then he's being pulled backwards onto the bed, still wrapped in Juno's arms. 

Maybe he'll switch his parts out next time they're planetside. Maybe he won't feel so weak with them on anymore.

That decision can wait, though. He buries his face in Juno's neck. And lets himself be selfish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all need a breakdown every once in a while
> 
> (tumblr me @nurgayev)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one bc i needed a good vent

Dysphoria for a machine is an interesting concept. Nureyev prefers the concept to the reality. The concept can be discussed, theorised and philosophised about. It's new and interesting, academics would salivate at the chance of studying it. 

The reality, however, often ends with Nureyev feeling out of place in his own body and the bedsheets thrown to the ground.

He doesn't feel  _ right _ always, with his chest. Especially now. It feels like a fallacy. The one side flesh and muscle and a scar he worked towards, but the other a mimicry of that. No flesh, no muscle, a scar for something that never happened. 

He squeezes his torso and rolls over onto his side, trying to ignore how he can _ feel  _ the difference between his natural ribs and the synthetic ones. He should be used to this. You'd think he'd be okay with the feeling. But when his body reminds him that there's a carrier bag where his lung used to be and that he can feel the manual pull of air he squeezes harder. He isn't okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trans folx do u ever just Feel Your Whole Body bc it sux


	4. Shadows on the Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look im back at my robot bullshit thank you SO much kabert for giving me some,,,, content. full disclosure as soon as pt.1 dropped i went 'could i have accidentally predicted this' and was questioning Everything for two weeks. ALSO SHOUT OUT TO FLOYD BOWLCUTNUREYEV WHO USED MY FIC AS AN EXPLANATION FOR THAT TOO IM SO GLAD WE CAN CAUSE GRIEF AND PROBLEMS IN THE WAYS THAT WE DO
> 
> trigger warnings for this chapter!  
\- needles/syringes and a description of an injection  
\- nonconsensual drugging in line with the most recent episode  
\- nureyev is pinned to a bed in a non-sexual way but the imagery may be distressing to some, please look after yourself and dont force yourself to read anything you may be triggered by!!

He knows it isn't Juno from the moment it sets foot in the medbay. Its walk is wrong. Too heavy, too self assured. Juno doesn't walk like that, not when its quiet. Juno walks like he's trying to keep the floor from squeaking under him, like there'll be a penalty put upon him if he fails and makes noise. 

Nureyev reaches for a knife under his pillow and finds none. Shit. He wants to jump from the bed, but even as his muscles twitch to do so a sharp pain runs up his side. Broken leg. Right.

"Hey, Ransom. I, uh, thought I'd come check up on you." And that's wrong too. His name. That name falling from Juno's lips with no hesitation. Nureyev's skin prickles.

"Oh, thank you dear. I'm quite alright, though. No need to check on me."

The thing comes closer, makes to sit at the end of the bed. 

Nureyev resists the urge to flinch back. "You can go back to sleep, Juno." 

It doesn't say anything for a moment, eye scanning him. Then it breaks into a grin.

"Oh." It says, in too good an imitation of Juno's voice. "Aren't you a sharp one?'

It says it brightly. Nureyev's fingers twitch. He's trapped. This  _ stupid  _ fucking leg. 

Before he can even think of a response, too, the thing springs forward and pins Nureyev's arms down, uses one of its legs to press Nureyev's good one into the cot. 

"Shit." He hisses, trying to thrash against it. The thing smiles with Juno's teeth. There's no saliva in its mouth. 

It lifts Nureyev’s arm like it's nothing even as he tugs against it, and grabs hold of both of his wrists with one hand. 

And the palm of its other hand opens up like the shutter of a camera and Nureyev knows  _ exactly  _ what this thing is. His stomach twists. 

"Who sent you?" He bares his teeth. "What are you here for?"

A syringe pops up from the open space in its hand and it moves to press it into Nureyev's arm, but it pauses, single mechanical eye focused in on Nureyev's chest like it can see through his shirt and the kevlar beyond. 

"Oh. Please hold still for a moment. A stronger dose will be needed for something like you."

_ Thing _ . Somehow, hearing this creature say that with Juno's voice - Juno's  _ face _ \- is worse than the fact that he may be about to die by its hand.

He tries to twist his arms from its grip as he watches the syringe empty and then fill again. 

"And my, if you aren't an interesting one. Nameless  _ and _ half empty." It raps its knuckle against his chest hard enough that Nureyev winces; hard enough for it to bruise, were that side of him organic. "Though not the first for long, I imagine." 

"Shut up." Nureyev spits. 

It smiles in a way that Juno wouldn't and presses the needle into his arm. He thrashes for a second, ignoring the way pain spears through him from his leg, but the cold flow of drugs from his arm into the rest of him quickly renders that background feeling as he fights back the dizziness, pushes back and tries not to pass out. 

His arms have stopped moving, he jerks them once more, valiantly, and the thing's hand doesn't so much as shift in the air. His vision starts to tunnel and he darts his eyes around desperately, trying to stay conscious. 

The last thing he's able to focus on before the darkness creeps all the way in is the smile spreading wide across the face of the thing pinning him. 

A smile with sharpened teeth, fox-like and  _ oh  _ so familiar. A smile Peter Nureyev sees in the mirror every morning.

And then Peter Nureyev sees nothing. 

And five minutes later Peter Ransom leaves the medbay of the Carte Blanche with a leg that doesn't seem broken in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! I'm marking this work complete for now because I think the next piece I'll be publishing in this series will be nsfw and I'll be publishing that separately! although if something happens next junoverse episode before i publish that i maaaay end up adding a chapter to this one, we'll see how quick i get that piece done,,,,

**Author's Note:**

> come @ me on tumblr! nurgayev is the url and im baby!!! 
> 
> I also have a twitter!! @mxcec!!


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